


Another Karezi Archive

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, You're Welcome, other relationships might be mentioned but this is all mainly karezi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1295710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is going to be the place where I dump all the karezi oneshots that aren't being gifted to anyone or otherwise don't really fit anywhere else. Requests made on tumblr will probably go here too, unless otherwise specified. </p><p>Ratings range from G to E and will be elaborated on in each chapter's notes (heads up though, it's probably going to just be a lot of porn).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hot for Tutor

**Author's Note:**

> **This chapter is rated E.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> it also features more of my Hispanic Karkat headcanon with freckly ginger Terezi. i literally just felt like writing porn, sorry. i already know i'm trash
> 
> also i'm still learning spanish so i apologize for the mistakes i probably made

You're not sure why Terezi even bothered inviting you over to study with her if she wasn't going to do anything but goof off. She claimed that she wanted you to help her with her Spanish class, since you're a heritage learner and speak it fluently. 

You remember her complaining, "I've got a test next week and if I fail it, my grade's gonna drop to a D! Do you have any idea how much shit my mom's gonna give me if that happens?"

So you'd agreed to tutor her, foolishly believing that she might actually put forth an ounce of effort. 

As usual, you were dead wrong.

"See, when you conjugate a verb that ends in 'er' or 'ir' in the preterite tense, they get the same endings. Don't ask me why that is, I have no clue. It's just convenient for memorization purposes. But be careful not to confuse them with the 'ar' verbs, because those have completely different... God dammit, Terezi, are you even listening?" 

"Nope," she answers unabashedly, rolling an eraser between her fingers. 

You drag a hand down your face with an exasperated sigh. "What I can't begin to fathom is why you thought it'd be a good idea to take an alternate language class. It's an elective, so it's not like you even have to in the first place. If you don't give enough of a shit to try, then what's the fucking point?"

She shrugs. "I guess I just thought it sounded cool when you spoke it, so I wanted to try learning it. And I've already taken more than a year of it, so there's not much point in giving up now." 

"Then maybe you could pay a bit more attention to me when I'm trying to help you. If you don't have any intention of giving up then you could at least try to act like it," you explain sternly, doing your best to be patient. With her, that's never an easy task.

"Okay." She leans forward and rests her chin in her hands, batting her eyelashes and feigning eagerness. "Is that better, Señor Vantas?" 

You glare. "I'm serious, Terezi. Stop wasting my time."

She pouts, but complies. "Ugh, fine. Sorry."

You nod. "All right. Now, as I was saying..." you continue lecturing, glancing up at her out of the corner of your eye every so often to make sure she stays focused. Her intense gaze remains fixed on you, allowing you to think for a while that she's actually trying to learn. 

Then she scoots closer, craning her neck towards the textbook innocently as she rests a hand on your leg for purchase. You stumble over the next few words but pretend not to notice. Even when you feel her rubbing gentle circles into your inner thigh with her thumb you keep reciting vocabulary words, trying to pull your mind out of the gutter. 

It's when her hand starts to inch higher that you draw the line. "Terezi, what the hell are you doing?"

She raises an eyebrow, blinking up at you. "I don't know what you're talking about." Her sentence is punctuated by a squeeze. 

You inhale slowly, trying to drain some of the excess blood from your face. Why does she have to make everything so _difficult_? "If I'm supposed to be teaching you right now, then you can't be feeling me up. It's... distracting."

"You know, my mom isn't home right now," she mentions casually, ignoring you.

"Terezi."

"And my sister's out, too. Pretty convenient, don't you think?" 

" _Terezi-_ " You stop short, hit by the realization that there's no way this is a coincidence. "Oh my god. You planned this, didn't you?"

Her smile widens as she leans closer, lovely and menacing. "And so what if I did? We never get opportunities like this..." Her hand presses between your legs.

You grit your teeth and swallow thickly, trying to shake the haze from your mind. "But why did you trick me into coming over? If you wanted to have sex, you could have just said so!"

She rolls her eyes. "There wouldn't be any fun in that! Besides, if I'd asked you outright, there would be the risk of Kankri finding out because you're a terrible liar."

"I am not-" you grumble indignantly, only to have her cut you off by pulling herself into your lap. 

"Yes, you are," she scoffs, draping her arms over your shoulders. "You stutter a lot, and you can't maintain eye contact." She's right, she knows that she's right, and you really _hate_ how perceptive she is. She grinds forward slowly, a mischievous grin tugging the corners of her mouth upward.

You hiss several expletives under your breath in Spanish, grabbing her ass almost reflexively and tugging her down onto you. This elicits a startled squeak from her, then a giggle. "Oh, Señor Vantas, oh!" she teases, faking a swoon. 

You growl and nip sharply at her neck, your irritation manifesting itself in the bruises you leave. "You aren't even failing Spanish, are you? You just needed an excuse to get me to come over."

Her grip on you tightens, affording you a moment of satisfaction. "Well, it's the only class I don't have an A in, but I'm closer to a B than to a D," she admits. Then she leans in to rest her forehead against yours, cracking a smile that threatens to split her face open. "To be honest, though... I think I'd rather get closer to the D," she whispers, wiggling her eyebrows.

You wince, groaning loudly. "Holy shit, I cannot believe you just said that." In response to her answering cackle, you tell her, "If we're going to do this, you can't go making jokes like that. It ruins the mood."

She scoffs. "It's not my fault you don't have a sense of humor!" With another roll of her hips, she adds quietly, "If you want, I can call you Señor Vantas. Would that help?" 

The heavy flush returns to your face. "You know, I think it would help more if you just stopped talking," you mutter lowly, yanking her into a rough kiss. 

She makes a happy sound in the back of her throat and squeezes you harder, retaliating with just as much vigor. She's power hungry and bloodthirsty and downright vicious in her assault because she loves to be in control. This time, though, you're not going to just lay down and give her what she wants. 

When she starts to tug insistently at your shirt, you peel her away from you a little, dipping a hand between the two of you to palm the front of her jeans. She bites down hard on her lip, trying to stifle a whine. "I think you should probably get these off, first," you suggest, not bothering to hide your amused smirk. 

She lets out a little huff of annoyance but obediently clambers off of you, getting to her feet to wriggle out of her bottoms. You take the opportunity to unbutton and unzip yours and slide them down your legs, standing up as she finishes. You've already decided that you're going to take charge for once.

She barely has a chance to give you a confused look before you grab her hips from behind and bend her front half over her desk. She'd let her guard down and you think you see the tips of her ears turn red with embarrassment. Propping herself up on her elbows, she turns her head enough to look back at you. "Damn... I wasn't expecting that. Well played, Señor, well played." Even in such a compromising position, she refuses to admit defeat.

You lean over her, aligning yourself with her back end. "I thought I told you to keep quiet, you're ruining the mood." 

"Actually, it was more like you suggested that I stop talking. Those are two completely different things, you know," she argues, her eyes betraying her silent laughter. 

Narrowing your eyes testily, you take a fistful of her hair and pull her head up close enough for you to speak into her ear. "Well then, smartass, in that case I guess it's a good thing there's no one else around, 'cause I'm gonna make you _scream_ for me." Her breath catches in her throat and it occurs to you that though she didn't expect it, she likes what you're doing. She likes it when you're not afraid to be rough with her. 

With that, you smugly push her back down onto the desk, steadying her hip with your free hand and sliding yourself against her. She shudders with anticipation, digging her nails into the wooden surface as she gives you a withering look. "Just get on with it, already!" She slips up a bit, her voice fluctuating. You've gotten her hot and bothered and it's clear that she needs this. Seeing that nearly makes you want to just give yourself to her because she's so gorgeous and pitiful. 

But you control yourself, because the thrill you get from knowing that you're the one who got her to this point is even better. "You're not really in a position to be making demands right now," you snort and continue to tease her, enjoying the way her face heats up indignantly. She's lost this battle, a fact that she's bitterly aware of.

When she starts to squirm and whine and claw at her desk, you decide that she's waited long enough, since she's finally conceded. You push into her without hesitation, earning you a delighted, high-pitched cry. Taking a deep breath, you start to pump your hips, quickly and rhythmically, leaning forward and placing a hand on the desk for balance. 

She grabs uselessly at the smooth wood a few times, as though trying to ground herself-- a pointless endeavor, since the desk rattles with the force of your thrusts. It's not until you bend towards her and start murmuring obscenities in your native tongue, though, that her moans and whimpers escalate into shrieks and howls. As her sounds echo around the room, part of you prays that her neighbors can't hear you. 

The other part of you, much more crude and possessive, hopes that they do, if only so they'll know that someone was and is capable of taming Terezi Pyrope. She belongs to you, just as much as you belong to her.

As time wears on, your words get more jumbled and your pace becomes clumsier. You're close to your peak, but you can't stop until she finishes because the best part of having her to yourself like this is watching her gradually unravel underneath you. Lowering yourself so that your face is level with her neck, you press your lips to her freckled skin, wherever you can reach, gentle in direct contrast to the rapid jerking of your hips. She goes oddly quiet, trembling, and you hear your name, urgent and _pleading_ and it makes your insides melt. You manage to splutter a warning in broken English, but the only coherent word that you can detect is "come".

And that's exactly what she does. She arches, every muscle pulled taut around you as she screams just like you told her she would. It's enough to spur you towards your end, shouting curses and praises in equal measure as you fall with her over the edge. For all that she yanks you around on her chain, you can't imagine anyone else being able to do this to you, making you come undone the way she does. The way she sets your blood on fire and twists your stomach into knots is proof enough that you need her, and when you're together like this she convinces you that maybe she's just as dependent on you.

When you come down from the sensory high that follows, sticky and panting, you look down at Terezi. She's slumped over the desk, thighs quivering and eyes half-lidded. She's so beautiful like this, and a part of you has trouble believing that you're capable of putting her in this state. You reach down to run your fingers through her sweat-slicked hair a few times, receiving a soft hum of contentment from her in response. 

"Can you stand?" you ask as you draw back languidly, still a bit dizzy. 

She shoots you a halfhearted glare and stubbornly props herself up again, shakily forcing herself to her feet. "Yes, thank you for your concern, casanova. I might need some help getting dressed, though." 

You chuckle and bend down to retrieve your pants, grabbing hers as well and giving them to her. Her cheeks take on a noticeable pink tint as she leans against you for balance, stepping into her clothing one leg at a time. Her pride makes it embarrassing for her to rely on anyone, even and especially for the mundane. 

When she's done she sits down on the edge of her bed as you tug your jeans back into place. You're met with a surprised look when you go over to kiss her again, sweeter this time now that you've both been physically sated. "Hey, I should probably be heading home now. It's getting late." 

She frowns, crestfallen. " _Puedes venir y enseñarme un otra vez?_ " 

" _Sí,_ " you agree, " _si me llamas 'Señor Vantas' entonces, también._ "

Her eyebrows shoot up as you turn to leave, picking up your backpack from the floor by her desk. " _Te amo,_ Terezi," you remind her, lifting your bag onto your shoulders. At the end of the day, opening up to her emotionally is the most important thing you can do. 

She's smiling again, her eyes sparking and lighting up her face. " _Te amo también, Karkat._ " 

You don't know what your excuse to your family for staying out for so long is going to be yet, but it doesn't matter, because a study session like that was definitely worth the trouble.


	2. Big as Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terezi repeatedly tries to convince Karkat that she doesn't want him to be afraid of hurting her, despite their difference in size. After all, the rougher the better, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter is rated E.**
> 
>  
> 
> few people appreciated this fic on tumblr outside of my friends at the karezi appreciation station. and i figured out why-- it's because no one likes the bara karkat headcanon. the same thing happened with the one anne posted ("Feather Light") even though her writing is way better than mine. 
> 
> but i think the idea of bara karkat being afraid to hurt his teeny gf while doing the sex is the cutest thing ever so fuck you guys it's going here anyway

Terezi Pyrope is by no means fragile. She's loud and colorful, gifted with a sharp tongue and deadly wit. Though small in stature, she has possibly the largest and most intimidating personality of anyone you've ever met. 

Yet despite having known this for years, you're still afraid to hurt her. 

In comparison to you, she's _tiny_. There was a time before you entered high school and puberty set in when you two were about the same size. Then, she stopped growing completely, but you didn't until you were in your senior year and at least a head and a half taller than she was. You've been able to hoist her onto your shoulders and carry her places since even before you started dating, and she'll often demand that you do so because she likes to feel taller. 

You always give in eventually, because in the end you can't say no to her, but you're still scared to touch her. You're scared that if you hug her as tightly as you want to, you'll break her ribs or squeeze the air from her lungs. You're scared that if you playfully shoved her or punched her in the shoulder the way she does with you, you'd knock her over. 

You're stockily built, almost athletic, which made manual labor an easy job decision. It developed your upper body in ways that make most men your age glare jealously, and ways that Terezi very much appreciates. She shows her appreciation in the way her hands roam your body, mapping the contours outlined under your clothing, or the way her legs hug your waist tightly as she kisses you with an intensity you won't let yourself match. 

Soon enough, she'll pull away to remind you what to do. She's never been a patient person, but she's so gentle when she cranes her neck to look up at you and speaks to you like you're still a child. "You don't need to hold back, dummy. You're not gonna hurt me, you know by now I'm not that delicate."

"The bruises are still there," you grumble defensively, referring to the bite marks and fingerprints you'd left in her skin the last time she'd demanded that you hold nothing back. "Barely," she retorts, "and it's only been, like, a week. They fade pretty quickly." Grinning, she loops her arms around your neck to pull herself up and look you in the eye, her voice soft and suggestive. "Which means that it's time for you to make more." 

You attempt to swallow your anxiety and slowly allow your hands to find her hips. She rolls her eyes at you, kissing you again and prying your lips apart with her tongue. You press back reluctantly, giving her a little squeeze when you feel the light scrape of her teeth. She lets out short hums of approval when your hands wander and you take that as encouragement, stopping only when the lack of oxygen makes you draw back dizzily.

"Your face is so red," she giggles breathlessly, pecking at the corner of your mouth affectionately.

"So is yours," you huff.

"Good, that means you're doing all right so far. Keep it up, champ." 

She slides back down into your lap, seating herself on top of you. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you watch her, and she laughs again at your expression, her hips rolling deliberately. You groan at the friction and clutch at her, unsure what else to do.

Then, she stops to peel off her shirt and suddenly she's talking again. "Now, Karkat," she instructs carefully as she reaches around to unclasp her bra, "I want you to just touch me. Don't think too hard about it, all right?" 

You're unable to do anything but nod dumbly as she shrugs away the article and reaches for one of your hands, clasping it in both of hers and placing it over one of her breasts. 

"See? That isn't so hard," she teases as you cup it and run your thumb over the soft skin.

"Well, it's not like we haven't done this before," you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"And it never gets any easier," she replies, giving you another pointed look.

You sigh, your hand falling to your side guiltily. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It's just... I don't know what to do without it being either too much or not enough."

She scoffs quietly and gives your shirt a hard tug. "What, are you afraid you're gonna break me or something? I would definitely let you know if you were hurting me. Plus, I honestly think the worst you could do is make it hard for me to walk for a little while-- but I don't think I'd complain then, since that would just give me an excuse to have you carry me everywhere!"

You try to splutter something, but she cuts you off with another harsh kiss, insistently shoving her thigh in between yours. She pulls away only to pant, "Less talking, more touching."

So you finally concede and hope that you can force yourself to relax enough to let your instincts take over. When she starts to pull on your shirt again, you help her remove it and then she's right back on you, skin on skin. You're unsure at this point whether the pounding in your chest is your heart or hers, excitement and nervousness swirling together in your head and making your thoughts a blur. 

Her fingertips trace their way from your torso to your shaky hands. Ever calm, she redirects one back to her chest, pressing the other firmly to her hip and giving another encouraging grind onto you. You squeeze her lightly and meet her with resistance of your own, earning you an approving hum. 

Then she's back to tracing your abdomenal muscles, halting at the waistband of your jeans. She slips her thumbs down past it, feeling the jut of your hipbones under her touch, then inches towards your front to fumble with the button. You move your hands to help her, then carefully lift her off of you and nudge her back, shifting to wriggle out of the remainder of your clothing. She seems to take that as initiative to get rid of hers as well and settles on the other side of your couch to kick them off, turning back to you with eagerness evident in her expression.

Your eyes flick up and down her body appreciatively as you shyly scoot closer. It doesn't escape your notice that she was right-- the marks you'd left the last time you made love to her are hardly there anymore, only a few faded ones remaining on the patches of skin that happen to be more sensitive. She flashes you a wide and devious grin, beckoning you closer with one finger and leaning back against the armrest. 

As you crawl over and stare down at her you're reminded again how petite she is and your throat closes, making it hard to breathe. Her eyes soften as she meets your gaze and drapes her arms over your shoulders to run her fingers through your messy hair. She murmurs your name, barely audibly. "Karkat." There's a silent question written on her face: _Now what?_

The gap between your faces closes as you go to brush your lips over hers. She goes still as you kiss her briefly, then move your head to trail more kisses across her jawline and down her neck. A soft sigh escapes her and she tilts her head back when you reach her collarbone, but you don't stop there. You hear your name again when you hover over her chest, quiet and strained, and glance back up at her flushed face. Her eyes narrow frustratedly, her grip on you tightening, and you know that it's not enough.

Still watching her, you decide to use your teeth, nibbling and teasing the spots that you know she likes best as you travel down her body. By the time you've reached her navel she's quivering slightly, staring at you intently through half-lidded eyes. She mumbles for you to _do_ something already, it's like you're barely even touching her, so you shuffle between her legs and take one of her thighs in each hand. Her breath catches when you press your mouth to her heat, and when you stroke her with your tongue her head falls back with a moan.

This positive reaction prompts you to hook her legs over your shoulders and continue with more fervor. She clenches around you, her thighs squeezing your head almost painfully and her hips rolling onto your face. When your gaze shifts upward at her, she's biting down on a knuckle to muffle her noises. 

You pause, detaching your mouth from her and lifting your head, which causes her to whine loudly and buck up at you in protest. You slide an arm underneath her to steady her, gently quieting her and shifting to replace your mouth with your hand. That gets her to settle down, letting out another whine of anticipation.

One finger slides into her with relative ease, so you add another and slowly start to pump them in and out, checking her expression to make sure you're doing all right. She grabs uselessly at the couch cushions as though she's trying to ground herself, her hips jerking forward clumsily, her jaw clenched and her brow furrowing in concentration. Her body language tells you all you need to know, but you listen to her, enamored at the way she gasps out praises and commands and your name, which you never appreciated this much before you made her sing it for you.

She lets you know when she's close, so you keep going and curl your fingers up sharply, bringing her to her peak with a shuddering cry. All of her muscles seem to tense up at once and then she suddenly goes limp in your arms, her breaths coming short and heavy.

You pull away, surveying the mess you made of her with satisfaction. Her face is glowing red as she blinks up at you hazily, her auburn hair spread out around her head. Your arousal is aching as much as your wrist and you want her, you want her so badly that it _hurts_ , but you've already given her what she needs and know better than to take what you want.

Then she smiles warmly and opens her arms for you. You accept her invitation, climbing back onto her and holding her close, only to let out a startled wheeze when you feel her abruptly grab your length and give it a few quick strokes. She snickers at you, her eyes still glinting mischievously. 

"You didn't think I'd let you off _that_ easy, did you? The goal here was to get you to loosen up," she cooes with a mocking tone in her voice. 

Your face falls forward onto her shoulder with a pathetic grumble, "You never said anything about..."  
She shushes you with a twist of her palm. Her other hand comes up to cup your face, forcing you to look at her. There's a moment of silence as she studies you before speaking again, her voice calm and uncharacteristically soft. "Karkat," she chides, "we've been over this. You don't have to be afraid of hurting me. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want you to enjoy this as much as I do?" 

You stop to consider her assertion with a quiet huff, the tension slowly leaving your body as your forehead comes to rest on hers. She closes her eyes and strokes your cheek with her thumb, her grip on you relaxing a bit. "Don't just do it to appease me. I want you to have sex with me because it's something _you_ like doing."

You finally nod, taking a few deep breaths to strengthen your resolve. "Okay."

She sighs, relieved, and moves her hand from your cheek to hold on to your shoulder. Her other hand gently guides you forward until you can feel her hips shifting to accommodate you. Her arms go to wrap tightly around you and she buries her face in your neck as you press into her. 

She stiffens and whimpers, a shiver running through her, and you can feel her breath hot on your neck as she lays a few kisses on it. You stifle a groan, waiting a few interminable moments before you start to move, slowly at first. Once you begin to gradually pick up speed and fall into a steady rhythm, you clutch her against you, your arms slipping under her body to hold her as she rocks with your pace. 

Her legs hook over your hips and pull you closer, as though in an attempt to fuse you to her with the sweat and heat. It gets harder to maintain a conscious train of thought as your movements become quicker; all that matters is being as close to her as possible. She's so vulnerable right now and so much smaller than you and you think that maybe if you cling to each other as fiercely as you are for much longer you won't be able to separate anymore. If it meant feeling like this forever, perhaps you wouldn't mind that. 

You can already feel her trembling and clawing at your back and shoulders and you hear your name again, lovely on her lips. You hardly manage to choke hers out in return, your thoughts racing and making you long to tell her how beautiful she is, raw and unraveled like this. 

She can't even manage a warning before she comes undone in your arms, clamping down around you and biting hard on your shoulder to muffle her scream. You shout several expletives, the sharp and stinging pain mixing with waves of ecstasy as you follow her, gripping her harder as you ride it out together. Your rough hands squeeze her sides, marking her with your identity and giving her what she wanted-- proof that she's yours. 

You all but collapse in an exhausted heap seconds later, your climax leaving you lightheaded. The fog clears from your mind bit by bit and it takes a minute for you to come to your senses enough to realize that you might actually be crushing her. With a worried grunt, you untangle your limbs and heave yourself off of her, scanning her for injuries and cursing yourself for losing your presence of mind. "Fuck-- are you all right, Tez? Did I hurt you?"

Your question is met with a tired giggle. She manages to weakly prop herself up on the armrest again, her chest still heaving and her pink skin damp and covered in marks that could only have been made by your mouth and hands. "Of course not-- I was right, as usual. In fact, I'd even venture to say that was your best performance yet." She pulls a face of discomfort when she moves to sit up and adds, "Sure as hell wore me out, though. Let's, uh... not go anywhere for the next few hours, maybe."

You're not sure whether your responding sigh is out of relief or exasperation. Grumbling that she's lucky neither of you have work or classes today, you go to lay next to her, only to be halted when she places a hand on your chest. 

"We should spoon." 

You raise an eyebrow at her. "Um, sure. I don't see why not."

When you attempt to change your position, she stops you again, shaking her head. "I want to be the big spoon this time."

You roll your eyes, deciding not to argue that she was actually the big spoon the last couple of times, and flop down on your side. She immediately takes her place behind you, wriggling around to get comfortable and hugging you close, her skinny arms winding around your bulky upper body. Her head comes to rest against your back and you hear her sigh contently as she curls around you and let your legs get tangled up with hers.

Turning your head slightly, you smirk at her. "Satisfied?"

She hums happily. "You have no idea..."


	3. My Mind Is Cruel, But You're Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes everyone a while to adjust to life after The Game, but it's a little easier to pick up the pieces and move on when you've got someone willing to help you. Karkat takes it upon himself to help Terezi recover from her dayterrors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter is rated T.**
> 
> vivien asked me for this one and i couldn't say no. it actually isn't porn, surprisingly enough. mostly just angst. i also just noticed that pretty much all my other karezi up til now has been human!stuck for some reason. huh.

Terezi Pyrope is, without a doubt, one of the strongest people you've ever met. You know her better than anyone else, yet she sometimes manages to convince you that she hasn't changed much since you two were 6 sweeps old, before your lives became a chaotic clusterfuck of death and drama. Her cackle is as loud and piercing as ever and her grin is still wide and frighteningly sharp. She's outgoing and active, almost as though she craves the attention and company she never got growing up. 

You want to believe that she's the same as she was then, but her eyes tell a different story. They're no longer scorched and sparking with cunning. Instead, they're fully functional and glazed over with the ghosts of her past. She'd killed the girl who had once been her best friend, destroyed the last piece of her lusus she had to remember her by, and blamed herself for becoming the victim of an abusive relationship. Considering all that she's been through, you're surprised she isn't worse off. 

For a while, the bags under those dull eyes would betray the long nights she'd spent tossing and turning alone. It took time for everyone to adjust to life after The Game, but her wounds seemed to take the longest to heal. She never asked for your help; you had to insist on giving it because her pride prevented that. Since she started sleeping beside you, though, you'd noticed that more often her smile would be genuine and her laugh didn't sound forced. Her emotional wounds are healing, but sometimes you wonder whether the scars will ever fade completely.

Your own anxiety will often make your sleep light and fleeting. It's during one of these fitful nights where you alternate between rest and insomnia that you're startled awake by a whimper.

You blink your eyes several times to adjust to the darkness of the respiteblock that you and Terezi share. The troll in question is curled in on herself on the other side of the bed, and for a moment you wonder if you'd just imagined the noise. Then, you hear it again, louder this time and accompanied by quick and heavy breaths. When you scoot closer, you realize that she's trembling. 

You groggily mumble her name, reaching for her. "'Rezi..."

The second your hand touches her shoulder, she starts squirming and tossing violently, her face contorted into a grimace. Alarmed, you grab both of her arms, shaking her in an attempt to force her back into consciousness. "'Rezi. Jesus, Terezi, _wake up!_ "

She lets out a shriek and grips your wrists tightly, digging her nails into the skin as she awakens with a jolt. A minute seems to drag on for hours, filled only with the sound of pained gasps for air. As you take in her bared teeth and the wild look in her eyes, you're afraid to say anything or even move. She looks like a cornered animal.

There's a period of tense quiet before her features finally start to relax. Her grip on you loosens and her hands fly to her neck, feeling it as though to make sure there's still a pulse. The discovery that she's breathing is met with a dry, choked sob of relief, her entire body slumping forward with the exhaustion her terror exacted. 

You tentatively inch closer to her quivering form, pulling her in for a hug. She gladly accepts, clutching tightly at your shirt and burying her face in your neck, her shoulders still hunched and shaking with tiny hiccups and sobs. You then allow your arms to wrap around her more fully as you whisper shooshes and reassurances, rubbing circles into her back and waiting for her to calm down. 

After a while, her crying deteriorates into little sniffles and her breathing evens out. Once she stops shivering, you gather up the nerve to speak. "Are you okay, now?"

She nods and wipes at her puffy eyes. "I'll be fine. Just... had a bad dream, is all."

"Must have been one hell of a bad dream, then," you mutter. You hesitate for another minute, unwilling to separate from her. "Do you, uh... want to talk about it?"

She clings to you and shakes her head. "No."

"Okay." You try to swallow down your worry. She hadn't had a dayterror this bad in perigees, since the first few weeks she'd begun to share a bed with you. It would have been nice to think that with you in her life she could get rid of them completely, but that notion was as ridiculous as it was self-righteous. It's dawned on you just how helpless you really are when it comes down to it.

She pipes up again, almost as if she can sense your turbulent emotions. "It's not your fault, you know. You've actually helped me more than anyone else has."

Your hold on her tightens subconsciously. "I don't know what the hell to do at this point," you admit. "I want you to get better. You don't deserve to keep hurting like this, but I have no damn clue how to make it stop." With a sigh, you smush your face into her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm fucking useless."

A cool hand covers your mouth and pushes your face back, and you look down to see her glaring at you. "Now isn't the time for your self-loathing bullshit, dumbass. What you're doing right now is fine." As she moves her hand to cup your cheek, she adds more softly, "I just want you to promise me one thing..." Her gaze burns into yours more than her blind eyes ever could have. "Promise me that you won't leave."

You close your eyes and agree wearily. "All right, I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

With that, she settles back against you, sleepily content. You press a kiss to the top of her head, right between her horns, and she hugs you tightly to keep you pressed against her when she dozes off again.

And even as you feel your eyes fluttering shut again you don't let go of her, because all you can do is hold her as close to you as possible and hope that one day, the girl who fought by your side all those sweeps ago will come back.


	4. Birthdays Suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat thinks birthdays are stupid, and Terezi decides to give him some special attention to cheer him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter is rated E.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> So apparently it was Karkat's birthday yesterday? I figured that was as good of an excuse as any to get back to writing porn, so here you go, even though it's technically a day late.

For you, June 12 - your birthday - has always been one of the most disappointing days of the year, and you're certain today won't be any different.

You've never understood the point of birthdays. It's really only the anniversary of the day you nearly split someone in half coming into the world. What about that single day of the year gives a person's very existence so much merit that people feel the need to acknowledge them with gifts that person probably doesn't want? You're pretty sure that by now you have enough hand-knitted articles of clothing from Aunt Rosa to keep a small army warm.

In any case, you've made it explicitly clear to your father that you don't want a party. You don't need a cake or candles or anything. You definitely don't need him to plan you a party, complete with balloons and streamers and party favors, like he did for you last year. You're turning seventeen years old, not five. If he really wants to get you a present so badly, money or gift cards are fine.

You told your girlfriend the same thing beforehand, and she'd shrugged and accepted your ambivalence. It was a little weird, she'd said, to not want free stuff, but in the end it made things easier on her.

When you get a call from her in the afternoon to hang out at her place, though, you're immediately suspicious. You dubiously ask her if she's got anything stupid up her sleeve, like a surprise party, but she just laughs and asks why it's so weird of her to want to spend time with you on your birthday.

Still, when she answers her front door and lets you in, you're half expecting a bunch of people to jump out of you and yell, "SURPRISE!"

You only begin to relax when a minute or two has passed and you're sitting on her living room sofa, watching her play Skyrim on the Xbox. She offered to let you play, but you declined. You're not really in the mood to kill anything right now, fictional or not.

It doesn't take her long to catch on, unsurprisingly. Terezi is one of the most perceptive people you've ever met, and the only nonsense she's willing to tolerate is her own. She pauses her game and sets her controller down after a few minutes, glancing over at you with an eyebrow raised. "Alright, spill it. What's the deal with you? You're acting weird."

You frown. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're being all quiet and zoning out, like something's on your mind. Plus, since I invited you here you've had this look like you think I'm gonna pull a knife on you or something." She leans a little closer to nudge you with her elbow. "So, tell me what's up."

You roll your eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about." That's sort of a lie, but like most teenage boys, you're inept at talking about your feelings.

She narrows her eyes, obviously unconvinced. "Does this have anything to do with why you were so against the idea of a surprise party, or getting any special attention?"

"The fact that I don't give a shit about my birthday has nothing to do with whatever it is you're imagining," you sigh. "Birthdays are a pointless thing that people always expect you to get excited for, and then when you actually get your hopes up they all come crashing down, and all you're left with is a pile of useless shit and the obligation to write a bunch of thank-you notes to the people that gave it to you."

Terezi just scoffs. "I knew it had something to do with the birthday thing."

"But I just said it didn't!" you protest.

"Whatever. I just think that in your effort to avoid any sort of birthday attention, you're making an even bigger deal of it."

"Fuck off, I already told you that you don't need to worry about me," you grumble.

"Juuust saying..." she hums, reaching to pick up her controller again and mercifully letting the room go quiet. For a few minutes, that is. 

You're still thinking over what she said and trying not to examine it too heavily. Part of you wants to leave, whether out of irritation or boredom. Perhaps you would have, had she not switched to the game menu suddenly and turned to you with a curious look.

"Have you ever gotten a blowjob?"

You stare at her blankly for a few long moments, feeling your face start to flush and believing that you must have heard her wrong, because there's no way she just asked what you're thinking. "What?"

She snorts a little at your expression. "I said, has anyone ever sucked your dick? You know..." She bluntly drives her point home by mimicking said action with her mouth and hand.

"Don't - don't do that, holy shit." You're still almost too stunned to believe it. "Where the fuck did that come from? You can't just randomly decide to ask people things like that!"

She raises an eyebrow. "So... is that a yes or a no?"

"Fuck- no, of course not," you sputter, as if that should have been obvious. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

She shrugs. "It's just a question, chill out. And I was wondering if you wanted one."

You stare at her as if she's grown a second head. "I... I don't know?" you manage to squeak, the very notion enough to have your heart racing, though you can't tell whether it's from excitement or nerves. "Why this all of a sudden?"

"Well, you said you didn't want any presents," she begins, and you cut her off with a groan.

"Are you trying to make me like my birthday? Because it won't work. Really, it's just a waste of your time altogether."

"Don't interrupt me," she scolds with a glare that sends chills down your spine. "It makes no difference to me whether you care about your birthday or not, but jeez, you're being so uptight about it. It's like trying not to give a shit is stressing you out, and that's ridiculous."

Your shoulders slump, and you find that you can't maintain eye contact with her any longer. " _You're_ ridiculous," you accuse weakly.

"Smooth," she retorts, unimpressed. "But I wasn't joking. If you find birthdays disappointing, I want to at least make this one not disappointing. And to be honest, getting head from a cute girl is probably better than any material thing I could have gotten you, so..." She trails off and wiggles her eyebrows with a mildly disconcerting grin.

You bite your lip and stare at the floor, considering this. You hate that she's right - that you would actually really love for her to suck you off, in spite of your anxiety.

"You're serious? Like, you're... you're really okay with that?" You glance at her, cheeks still hot with embarrassment.

It's only then that you notice she's scooted much closer to you than she was before, and you gulp as she puts a hand on your thigh. "Sure. No one's home, so it's just us. And I just said I was, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah... I mean, if you're sure, then go right ahead, I guess." Your gaze has fallen to follow her hand, which inches further up your leg with every flustered word you speak.

The moment she has express permission, her smile widens and her hand all but dives between your legs. You make a very undignified yelping sound as she gropes you through the fabric of your jeans, not having expected such enthusiasm from her.

Then again, she enjoys any opportunity she has to make you squirm.

You're trying to stay still, though, almost afraid to move as she climbs off of the couch and drops to her knees in front of you, still rubbing the slowly growing bulge in your pants. She only removes her hands to pull you closer by your legs so that she has easier access.

You watch her nervously, breathing shallow with anticipation, as she undoes the button and zipper on your jeans and begins to tug them down. You help her out by lifting your hips, letting her slide them down to your thighs along with your boxers.

It's hard not to squirm self-consciously as she stares at your lap for whatever reason before reaching up to touch you again. You wonder if she's at all repulsed. Are you too small? Can she even tell when you're not at full mast? Or is it because you're not circumcised? And, although you're positive you took a shower this morning, you still find yourself worrying that your personal hygiene is an issue.

Your attention is abruptly brought back down to her, however, when she spits on her hand and grabs you by the shaft to stroke it up and down. You can't help but gasp, half because you weren't expecting it and half due to pleasure.

Just out of curiosity, you ask if she's ever done this before.

"Nope," she replies cheerfully, looking incredibly confident in spite of that. "I don't think Vriska counts, since she doesn't have the same equipment."

You groan in annoyance, feeling yourself go a little soft at the very mention of her ex. "Please don't mention that when you're about to blow me, holy shit. Too much information."

She just answers with a cackle, undeterred by your apparent discomfort. "You think too much. You need to relax, jeez."

You'd like to respond with something, but you're unable to because then she leans forward and wraps her lips around the head of your dick.

For a moment, your body goes rigid, mostly with surprise at the sensation. You tilt your head down to watch her work, goosebumps rising along your inner thighs at the way she twirls her tongue around the tip. If you didn't know any better, you'd think she's had some kind of experience with this.

She pulls her lips off with a soft _pop_ , smiling up at you knowingly as she sticks out her tongue to run it along the sides of your length, from base to head and back again. At this rate, it doesn't take her long at all to get you completely hard, and when she notices she sits back again to survey you with satisfaction.

"Hm. Not bad," she remarks, grasping your length in her hand again to stroke it.

"I... W-what does that mean?" You manage to stutter, staring down at her with wide eyes.

"Just what it sounds like," she answers simply. "Not bad at all."

When she lowers her head again to take you into her mouth, she doesn't stop simultaneously working you with her hand. She doesn't seem to have any problems gradually taking more of you, though, and by the time you're buried almost completely in her mouth you're too dizzy to wonder if that's normal.

Dimly, you feel yourself slump back against the couch's backboard, breathing heavily and still watching her. Her movements are slow and calculated, and somehow she's able to tell exactly how to make you feel good, like she's done this plenty of times before. Did she plan this or something? There's no way to tell, but either way she's doing a damn good job and you can't even untangle your own tongue long enough to tell her.

You feel warm all over, but especially in the pit of your stomach, like her actions have lit a fire there that's growing continuously. You're familiar enough with the feeling of release to know that when that fire burns uncomfortably hot, you're nearing the edge.

But she can tell, too. It's in the quiet noises you try to stifle and the way your fingers scrabble harder at the couch cushions for purchase, too afraid to touch her directly for fear you'll distract her, because the last thing you want is for her to stop.

Yet stop is exactly what she does, for some reason, sliding off of you with a smug and knowing grin. She can feel you pulsing in her hand, she _knows_ what she's doing and you can't stand it.

The first thing to pass your lips is a pathetic whine, probably the most pitiful sound you've ever made. "'Rez..."

She shushes you mockingly, flicking her tongue out again to play with your sensitive head and run her tongue all around its edges.

You feel fit to burst, and you're not sure what breaks you seconds later: the way she tongues deliberately at your foreskin, or the way her eyes meet yours.

Either way, you're a goner. Your hips jerk up sharply and you swear loudly as all the pressure built up within you seems to dissipate at once.

It takes you a few moments to clear your head and try to regain your composure. You blanch when you look down again, however, to see strands of your cum decorating her lips and nose. She looks just as startled as you, and you suddenly find yourself praying she's not angry.

"Fuck- I'm so sorry, Terezi, I swear to every holy deity in existence that I did _not_ mean to do that-"

She cuts you off with a bark of laughter. "Oh my god. I didn't think I'd be able to finish you off that quickly. I guess that means my mission was a success, then!" She treats the situation far more casually than you do, even licking her lips to taste you and wrinkling her nose a bit.

You gawk at her, both relieved and in shock. Scrambling to pull your pants up, you struggle to stand, despite how weak that orgasm made your knees. "Sorry," you apologize again. "I mean, I can go get you something to clean it up with-"

She just rolls her eyes at you and shoves you back down onto the couch, shaking her head. "Nah, it's fine. No big deal, it cleans up easy. See?" Her fingers carefully swipe over the mess to collect it, and her tongue darts out to lick them clean.

You're not sure whether watching that is more unsettling or arousing, so you avert your eyes again. Her weight settles itself next to you, and you briefly feel her lips on your cheek. "Now that wasn't too bad, was it?"

"No, it was... it was great," you manage awkwardly, moving to tuck yourself back into your jeans and button and zip your fly.

"Whoa there, calm down. Your enthusiasm is killing me, Karkat."

"I... I'm sorry? I'm not good at this shit, you know that." You peek at her anxiously out of the corner of your eye.

She just laughs. "I'm just messing with you, dummy. I'm glad you liked it. And I'll be happy to do it again sometime- that is, if you promise to return the favor." 

The thought makes you blush, but you're certainly not against the idea. "Um... Thanks."

Maybe she was onto something earlier, though. It's hard to dread birthdays when it's an excuse to get serviced like that. For the first time today, you smile.


	5. Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just PWP. Karkat eats Terezi out and they both enjoy themselves thoroughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **This chapter is rated E.** (it's pretty softcore but just in case.)
> 
> this is a super old thing i found laying around in my drafts so i decided to polish it up and finish it. so. here it is. i hope it's not too obvious that i haven't done any smut in a while

"Terezi.”

You and Karkat are in bed together, and he's above you, face flushed and eyes half-lidded. In the heavy silence, everything stands out. You're hypersensitive to the feeling of his hand trailing down your side, fingers sliding under your shirt and resting on your stomach. He stares at you unblinkingly, silently asking permission to continue.

You smile. “What are you waiting for?”

He sighs, almost in relief. Your top takes a few minutes to get off because you're reluctant to pull away from him at all, but once it’s gone he wastes no time in searing his appreciation into your skin with kisses and bites. He'll get embarrassed about the marks you brand each other with later, only to end up making more.

With a sigh, you let your head fall back, a shiver running down your spine as his teeth graze your pulse. You feel him smirk against your skin as he tends to your fresh bruises and you bite the inside of your cheek in irritation. You’re rightfully impatient, yet he continues to take his time.

He’s such a goddamned _tease._

He refuses to make any more progress until you're both topless. Then he slowly ghosts his lips across your collarbone and over your chest, working his way down your body. He stops at the waistband of your pants and you can feel your breath catch as he hooks his fingers in the fabric, pressing a sloppy kiss to your navel.

“ _Karkat_ ,” you huff, torn between excitement and irritation. He used to be so nervous, so shy when it came to this sort of thing. He could hardly look you in the eye once clothes started to come off. Now that he knows what he’s doing, though, he acts with an air of confidence. He loves making you wait, probably because he’s aware of how much it gets on your nerves.

He glances up at you, one eyebrow raised, but he doesn’t say anything. You guess that’s another nice thing about getting him this focused: he doesn’t run his mouth nearly as much. There are more productive things he can do with it, after all.

You take the initiative to start sliding your pants down your legs, and he reads that as a cue to assist you, shucking them off to the side before returning his attention to you. Leaning back a little further, you watch him expectantly. He’s aware that you’re following his every movement – you can tell by the way he keeps peeking up at you to gauge your expression as he resettles his upper half between your legs.

He warms up in the same slow manner that he always does, running his hands over your thighs and planting kisses up the inside of one. You can feel his breath raising goosebumps on your sensitive skin, and you let your legs hook over his shoulders, bare heels digging into his upper back impatiently.

He’ll always claim that he’s just setting the mood, like the sappy fuck he is. He really does put too much stock in his romantic tripe. Regardless, he seems intent on making sure that not an inch of you goes untouched, whether by his hands or his lips, before he finally gives you what you _really_ need.

When he at last reaches the apex of your thighs, he kisses you there, too, in a way that’s humorously chaste. You actually snicker under your breath, and you think you catch him smiling a little too before he drags his tongue up your slit, slow and experimental. With a sigh, your hand dips to find the back of his head, fingers curling in his hair and pressing into his scalp as a silent demand for more. And he obliges, nudging his face further between your legs and curling his tongue up and into you.

At times like these, you like watching him work, seeing the way his eyes slowly close and his expression becomes relaxed and almost uncharacteristically contented. “Enjoying yourself, there?” you tease him, mostly because he gives off the impression that he gets even more out of this than you do. Yet even if you'll never admit it out loud, it’s nice to be the focus of his attention. When he's determined to make you happy, he stops thinking about how much he loathes himself. All you can do in return is try to fill in the holes in his heart in equal measure, since it's pretty much impossible not to love him back.

He doesn’t stop, but he does open his eyes and let his gaze flick up to you for a moment, lazily humming an affirmative. The sensation makes you shiver a little, enough that it encourages him to do it again. His hands move to cup your thighs, but he never once takes his mouth away from your mound, even when you rock your hips up against his face and probably make it harder for him to breathe.

In spite of his slow start, he soon starts to process of the little non-verbal cues you give him: gentle tugs on his hair, the arch of your back, the clenching of your thighs the slightest bit tighter around his head. From there, it doesn’t take long for him to pick up the slack.

You think what really fuels him are the noises you make. Every happy sigh or moan makes his grip on your legs tighten further, makes him quicker and more enthusiastic. It’s in this manner that his movements escalate from slow and calculated to sloppy and almost frantic. Everything is warmer and fuzzier around the edges, his touch electric enough to send sparks straight to the pit of your gut. He’s all too eager to unravel you, and you’re all too eager to let him.

Before you can even notice what he’s doing, his hand creeps up just a little further between your legs, finding your clit and rolling it beneath his thumb. That makes your hips jerk slightly, toes curling with the feeling. When you incline your head enough to look at him again, you find him staring back at you intently, _watching_ you and clearly expecting you to finish. You almost do, right then and there.

But it’s not enough, and you attempt to convey this to him by hissing out his name again through gritted teeth.

He understands. His tongue slides up to where his fingers were just seconds before, and when he finds the sensitive bud he wraps his lips around it and sucks on it, _hard_.

It’s enough, it’s _too much_ , and you climax almost immediately with a delighted squeal, quivering and going rigid. It’s good, too good to last. By the time the high starts to fade several seconds later, Karkat is pulling his face away and stroking one of your thighs in an embarrassingly tender fashion, his gaze still trained on you.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned this before,” he starts, the corners of his mouth pulling up slightly, “but I’d appreciate it if you could try a little harder _not_ to crush my skull like a grape when you come.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Nah, I’m sure your skull can hold up. It’s pretty thick, after all.”

He tries to look annoyed, but he ends up cracking a grin instead, and you suddenly find yourself wondering what his lips taste like with you on them. So you squirm into a sitting position and make a point to find out.

By the time you pull apart again, you're both having trouble catching your breath. Your panting fills the otherwise silent air for a minute or two before you speak up again, the same goofy grin still splitting your features.

“Your turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i called this chapter "indulgence" bc it was Sin and i'm not that sorry about it


End file.
